


Gin

by majesticlolipop



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Class Differences, Drinking, I really don't know the difference I apologise, Its not really a specific era, References to Smoking, regency!lock, victorian!lock
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-01
Updated: 2015-07-01
Packaged: 2018-04-07 03:35:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,460
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4247799
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/majesticlolipop/pseuds/majesticlolipop
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Rated T for drinking. Lord Holmes is bored at the annual Holmes Ball. A little one shot I wrote for English Class (but changed the names) and found on my laptop. Fluff and slight angst I guess? Enjoy!</p>
            </blockquote>





	Gin

**Author's Note:**

> Just a short little oneshot. I'm planning on writing a multi-chapter fic soon so keep watching out! (If the concept of this story sounds familiar to you, its probably because I use a somewhat similar little prompt when I'm rping)

I was lying down on the grass outside of the estate grounds, a tobacco cigarette between my lips as I lazily blew smoke rings into the darkening sky. I could hear Mother shout at me from the balcony of her study, but I ignored it and blew another ring, letting the acid smoke fill my chest like fire from a dragon in children’s storybooks. 

I was in trouble, and everyone knew it. It was not rare for me, the youngest Lord of the house, to be in trouble, but today I seemed to be the news of the century. You see, earlier this very night, I caused quite a stir at our annual Christmas ball. It is always the biggest night of the year for any relation of the Holmes family. It was also pretty revolutionary as it was one of the only nights of the year that we mingled with the staff. Mother’s idea, that was. My brother, Mycrroft, had rammed into my head that I should always remember that the staff were but staff, and hardly people, and that I shouldn’t think anything of them. 

Oh, How I wish I had listened. 

Last night, I walked into to the ballroom; clad in the most uncomfortable dress robes I have ever put onto myself, and bowed to begin the first dance. As a noble man, I of course had been taught a fair amount of dances by my nanny, and so fell into a mundane, repetitive night. By the third dance, I was soundly bored, and so snuck to the staff kitchens to perhaps steal a few sips of cider. What met my eyes, though, was not whiskey, but a woman, no younger then I, dressed in dress of cream that clashed with her cascading long brown curls, that fell like a waterfall over her shoulders. Her legs were hooked up on a chair and her large brown eyes were darting hungrily over the book in her hands, as if she was starving for words. I couldn’t stop staring. 

“Miss?” I questioned. “Are you new under my fathers employment?" I asked, wondering who she was, as I had never seen her before, although I never really paid any attention the maids. 

This had startled her, and she froze, her book falling to the ground with too loud a thud for our thick silence, and it slid over the floor to my feet.  
“O-oh.. S-sir.. I am so sorry, Lord Hooper, I ..” she ranted in a thick middle class accent, quickly pushing her hair back and trying to find her book.  
I picked it up, walking over to her with curious eyes. “Ma’am, it is fine..” I tried to reassure, tearing my eyes away from her to read the title of the book. “Atlas of Anatomy, by Jean Baptiste Marc Bourgery?” I asked curiously, handing it back to her. “Great read, I must say. I finished it about two months ago.”  
Her face flashed with awe and confusion at my words and she clutched the book to her chest. Of course, I knew why she had looked at me like that. A peasant girl was the last person most people would think to be reading the differences between the glands of the throat. A woman of her background and position would be looked down upon by most of the public for reading. It was expected of a woman of her standing to get a job, and find a good husband, and bare him children. Unless you were of good birth, it was seldom you would find a woman so interested in literacy. 

“T-Thank you sir, I think so too, sir.” She said, a deep red flush upon her cheeks.  
“Why aren’t you with everyone else out in the ballroom?” I asked her curiously, going over to the cold press to get a bottle of whiskey. There was none, so I settled for gin. 

“Oh, sorry, sir, I um… I will go straight out now, sir.” She said nervously, to which I shook my head, pulling up a chair. “Miss, please. It is perfectly fine if you don’t want to.” I said, taking a long sip of the burning liquid. I grimaced.” I am not keen on the party, either.” I admitted, and this seemed to calm the woman down and she sat back down, albeit a little more lady-like then when I had walked in. 

I smiled. “So…” I started. “Who is forcing you to go tonight, then? Instead of reading?” I asked her curiously, offering her some of the gin. She refused.

“My mother sir.” She stated, somewhat bitterly, before shrugging a little and leaning over to take the bottle and took a sip. 

I studied her for a moment. “Your mother isn’t just forcing you to come tonight, though, is she? She forced you to take this job here in the Holmes estate instead of studying…. To be a doctor?”

She blinked at me for a moment, speechless. ".. How did you know that I wanted to be a doctor, Sir?" She questioned, leaning towards me a little. I looked up at her then, with a grin on my face. "Your hair, and your hands. Your hair is pulled down, not very complicated like the other women here. Shows you are used to just pushing it out of your face and getting to work. So you were definitely training for something. Your hands have some burns, some scars and that. You experiment a lot, basically. Your index finger on your right hand shows you write a lot... peculiar for a woman of your class, so you were really serious about your career. Doctor it is."

"That's.. That's incredible.." She breathed, grinning. "But to be more specific, its a pathologist I was going to be. My father was very supportive of it but when he passed away my mother decided it was unladylike to be going into that career so she got me a job here." She told him.

I rolled my eyes. "That’s ridiculous. It shouldn't matter what gender you are."

She flushed and nodded in agreement, taking another sip. “Um…” she murmured, putting the gin back on the table. “Is there anything else you need, sir?”

I shook my head at that, and looked up at her dark eyes. “Not at all, Miss…?”

“Margerette, sir. Margerette Anne Hooper.”

I nodded and put my hand out for her to shake. "Pleasure to meet you, Miss Hooper. Lord William Holmes. Although I'd appreciate it if you would call me Sherlock, as that is my middle name.”  
Margerette nodded back in return, shaking my hand politely. "Pleasure to meet you also, William. You may call me Molly, if you'd like. That is what my family call upon me.” She said with a sweet voice small smile.

And that is when Mycroft walked in. 

'William.” He hissed, and I quickly let go of Molly's hand and glared up at him, as he began speaking again.  
“You know, when you told father you didn’t want to marry any of the noble ladies offered, I just assumed you were not inclined in any sort of relationship. Yet here you are, courting a peasant girl. Father will hear of this.” He said, and before I could try and object, he was gone. 

And that is how I ended up there, in the grass, as the rumours started to travel through the house like wild fire. By the time father had heard of it, the story had changed from us being caught holding hands to something less delicate.  
I sighed, and smoked another ring, before I saw a woman sneak out of the back door of our home. I sat up curiously and noticed it was Molly. She ran against the wall of the gardens, the shade shielding her for the most part, before her eyes met mine. “Oh sir, I.. “ she whispered, her chest heaving with freight.  
“No, no miss, This is not your fault.” I said as I stood up properly. “Go home, trust me, I will try to clear your name.”  
Molly laughed bitterly. “They aren’t… they won’t believe me. I will never be able to work in this town, and your name will never clear. You’ll be known as some sort of womanizer. This town… I need to leave.”  
I frowned. “Where will you go?” I asked before I heard shouts in the distance.  
“I..I don’t know. London, I think. Perhaps they’ll let me become a doctor.” She joked and tipped the cap she had put on. “Goodbye sir..” she said and came up to me and kissed my cheek before she left.

I raised my hand to my cheek as I watched her figure disappear in the distance. "Goodbye, Molly."


End file.
